


Thirty-Seven Seconds

by nagi_schwarz



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 15:31:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6158246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being held hostage always makes for a bad day at the office. Post-Endless Waltz.</p><p>Originally written for the gw_500 comm on LJ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirty-Seven Seconds

“It’s just a little blood - you’ll be fine,” Quatre said. He kept his voice low but soothing, cinched his tie tightly across Lena’s thigh to stanch the flow of blood.

Hannah had fainted.

“Just a little blood?” Stevens hissed. “She’s been shot!”

Lena was hyperventilating.

“That’s very touching,” Gunman One said. He was wielding a cheap semi-automatic, a Chinese knock-off of an old AK-47, and he was lucky the thing still fired. These men were hardly professionals. “It’s always so nice to see a spoon-fed aristocratic such as yourself in touch with the plebeians of your monster corporation.”

Quatre settled back in a crouch. The posture might have made him look small and afraid, but it was defensive, allowing him to spring in any direction at a moment’s notice.

“If you’re here for money, that can be arranged.” It was easy to inject a slight tremble into his haughty air, let them think he was grandstanding in vain. “But please, don’t hurt my people. They’re innocent. Whatever wrong you think I’ve committed --” and they had no clue what horrors he’d actually committed -- “I’m sure there’s a peaceful way to resolve things.”

Not so, the voice in the back of his mind purred, and he was assaulted with a deluge of statistics, probabilities - twenty-one ways to the doorway, four more dead employees, all five gunmen down before someone had a chance to call the Preventers.

He kept his expression little-boy determined and enjoyed how oblivious the gunmen were when Gunman Two did the most foolish thing possible - moved behind Gunman Three so all five were right in Quatre’s killing path.

“You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth - of course you think there’s a peaceful answer for everything,” Gunman One spat. “You’ve never had to struggle a day in your life. You don’t know what it means to fight for your own survival.”

Hannah had been holding a letter opener when she fainted. It wasn’t sharp, but a little velocity would make up for the duller edge. Quatre eased a hand toward it slowly and began to speak.

“You’re wrong.”

Gunman One laughed. “You’re Quatre Raberba Winner. Everyone knows everything about you. Frankly, it’s nauseating. There are no surprises with people like you.”

“Then maybe you’ll be surprised to know that I can kill you and all four of your friends in the next thirty-seven seconds,” Quatre said, and that voice in the back of his mind purred its approval.

“Really? And how would you do that?”

“I would kill you with a throwing knife through the throat. While your compatriots panic - because I am only little Quatre Winner - I’ll break number two’s neck, slice open three’s femoral artery, stab four through the ear, and strangle five with the barrel of his own assault rifle,” Quatre said.

Gunman One blinked. Then he laughed. “What the hell...? That was pretty funny. Tell me, little Quatre Winner - what knife?”

Quatre threw it at him.


End file.
